An extra hour's make believe
by flossie1
Summary: “Don’t you want to just...be free, for just a little longer? What’s an extra hour’s make-believe?” Lily and James are drawn together on a winter’s afternoon


_**An extra hour's make-believe**_

_Summary:__ "__Don't you want to just...be free, for just a little longer? What's an extra hour's make-believe?"_ Lily and James spend a winter's afternoon together

_Disclaimer__: _I own nothing

_Rated K_

_Author's Note__: It's been an incredible two years since I wrote a story here, and I think I forgot just how much I enjoyed it. For anyone who had read my other stories, and for anyone who has just clicked here on chance- thank you so so much for reading! I would really appreciate any kind of feedback :)_

...

It was the humiliation that broke her in the end.

Bankrupt of logic, those moments played and replayed in her mind like the dull scratch of an insect bite. It burnt and stung; reddened against the flesh of memory and taunted her with the promise that it would get worse before...before it would...would it ever go away?

Her breath bit in the cold morning air, dusty haloes of frost circled her pink cheeks. She marvelled that her body kept forcing each icy intake of breath, with every urge for oxygen her lungs responded without hesitation. Why couldn't emotion become dormant like that? It could become a cold, innate thing, separate from sentiment or feeling; just another occupation of her body. She could train herself against it. Against the unavoidable pain.

She already felt herself changing.

As hundreds of quills wrote in synchronised ecstasy back in the hall, a surge of excitement launched through her. Exhilaration. Freedom. Then fear. She pictured the exam she wasn't writing, counted the thousands of words never writ, the paragraphs she hadn't ordered... the mark she wouldn't receive.

Only a matter of hours ago she had still furtively defined her life based on that neat row of A's on her report. She had relished her intelligence as though it prefaced her name; Outstanding Lily Evans. Organised Lily, In-Control Lily, Perfect Lily. These trim titles each perfectly fit into The Plan. Now, as her shoes melted patterns against the snow like a cookie scored into dough, she desperately tried to recollect exactly why The Plan was so goddamn important.

"You couldn't possibly have finished two hours early!"

His teasing voice stung the silence.

She had been insolently interrupted; Lily stifled a gasp of shock. She whipped around to face the owner of the voice; her auburn hair sliced through the air.

"_What are you doing here_?"

The severe tone surprised him. From the few times he had seen her, James remembered a shy, softly spoken girl. He ignored her demand, "I'm not the one that's supposed to be in an exam right now."

She bowed her head.

He took a step closer, "Lily..." his voice was soft, careful, "It is Lily, right?"

She nodded.

"Oh. Good...'Lily'," he tested her name out loud to himself. Searching her face for a glance of recognition...realising how her delicately pale skin reminded him exactly of the curve of a lily petal, "Are you okay?"

It occurred to her she had no answer for him. She had no answer for herself.

Her fierceness had thawed. She couldn't help but feel comforted by his unease around her, his nervousness. She knew who he was as soon as he'd spoken. James Potter.

This righteous, self-important, arrogant...

She felt her chest weaken as she leant against the bitter stone wall, her knees folded as she sat herself on the mire of dirt and ice.

He sat next to her with a second of hesitation. Together they ignored the snow as it liquefied by the heat of their bodies and seeped through their clothing, numbing the skin.

Lily leant her head against his shoulder. This stranger's shoulder.

For the first time in her life, she didn't act on reason, on sense, on logic. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel the constant magnetism to common sense.

"I woke up this morning."

She surprised herself. The rush of words.

"I woke up...and I was so cold."

She closed her eyes, "I was so cold. I was underneath all these blankets, under the covers where it's supposed to be safe, it's supposed to be warm and comforting and it's not 

supposed to let you down. You know? There has to be one place where you can be protected. One place, you know?"

James was afraid to speak. He didn't know. He had no idea of what she was trying to tell him. But he felt the pull of her tiny, feverish voice wrap ties around him; her cheek rested against his arm- this feeling of a connection unbound by anything he ever knew.

"I didn't want to disappoint anyone. I didn't want to come home without a grade to announce, or...or an impressive story to tell. And I was just...I'm really...so tired."

She abruptly sat up to face him. Her vision hazy by grooved tears held stubbornly in her eyes.

A new strength to her voice, "Who am I?" she dared him, "Who do you think I am?"

James felt a shiver run through him uninfluenced by the cold... holding his breath as if about to jump into deep water. Her eyes announced an unspoken challenge...

Desperation. "I'm sorry- I don't- don't know. You're Lily. You're very smart, I know that. You topped Charms, I remember..."

A slow, sad smile lined her face as she stood up, "Yeah. Yeah that's who I am."

James knew, somehow, his answer was correct...but so painfully wrong.

She began to walk towards the entrance.

"Wait!" he called, she paused, "Wait a second...you don't want to go back in there. The exam will finish soon. Don't you want to just...be free, for just a little longer? What's an extra hour's make-believe?"

For the first time she let herself smile. Really smile. And he returned it.

...

This girl was unlike anyone he had ever met. And James had met a lot of girls. He didn't always meet them with the intent that had contracted him a reputation as a player; it just always seemed to work out that way. And yet, over the years it had begun to fit. And he really couldn't say he had done much to impede it.

As they walked James stole quick glimpses of his unfamiliar girl. Her long curly hair danced about to the whim of the wind, darting and skipping about as though in tune to some silent song. Her cheeks flushed. Freckles dappled unassumingly on her nose. Her cherry coat wrapped tightly around her like a silkworm's cocoon, spun around and around, protecting her... or, no...was it a barrier?

This girl was so strange. So sad. He felt an intense appeal pulling him to her that he had never known. This feeling...like in some way she was his responsibility.

Seeing her smile for him had been like the first shot of a drug. Her happiness had in some way become his duty, his need, his heroin.

"Just up here," he pointed, "see that tree there?"

As they climbed against slopes of mazed snow, it occurred to Lily she had no idea where she was being taken. How come she felt so secure?

She stopped to catch her breath and watched James as he strode up to the base of an ancient Oak. Its base was bridled by the intricately woven worms of its trunk; spun like candy floss to its branches, which arched and stretched across the white sky. It was beautiful. She could make out a black and white labyrinth of tricks and quizzes to its leafless arms.

James felt her gaze as he jumped and caught hold of the lowest branch; moving his body like a pendulum he swung up and on to the ledge. He watched Lily carefully approach, and he held out his hand to her.

A current of electricity blistered through their fingertips as they met, surging a curious power, an excitement that made Lily's heart strike against her chest.

She nestled onto her place, gasping in wonder when she took in the view. In what had felt like a few short steps, they had reached the summit of a gradual hill that surveyed the whole of the forest. The enormity of the sight, the rows and columns of various whites created a layer cake of winter's handpicked. The sky, the clouds, the crown of the trees...it was breathtaking.

James grinned as he watched her bright green eyes widen, "I've always loved it here. It doesn't matter what time of year or day. It's just so still. It's peace."

They sat together as the scarcely visible silhouette of the sun crept along the sky on its way to set. Time seemed to mould in and inside of itself.

"I can barely remember what that exam was for, now."

James took her hand; instinctively he drew rings across her palm.

"I felt so trapped, you know," she turned to face him, "I felt like walking into that exam room was committing myself to prison. It was like the final nail- I just couldn't do it. I stayed up all last night studying. And this morning...I put on all these layers, my jumper, my coat," she lifted her collars, "I just couldn't get warm. I wasn't myself anymore. I was frozen. I was empty."

She placed her other hand on top of their held pair. Her eyes met his, and they thanked him with unspeaking gratitude.

"I just couldn't accept that empty person to be who I am."

...

The shadowy sun eventually found its resting place on the horizon.

And the rush of reality returned, announcing itself without tact or invitation.

The next day came, and then the next, and the next. The flurry of Christmas began to infect everyone, the students, the teachers. Fairy lights and paper chains besieged the once vacant hallways, mistletoe hung at the eaves of doorways, mischievously begging to catch couples off guard.

Cheery fireplaces pleaded to be sat in front of, sharing and promising warmth. Snow fell against the panes of the castle in pretty patterns, lingering in the air as if proudly showing themselves off.

The exams were a thing of the far, far remote past; forgotten in heads which were now preoccupied with the delight of the holidays, planning their gift shopping and receiving.

Many A's littered Lily Evans' report card, but it was the solitary C which she took the most pleasure in. She dreamily traced and retraced its arc with her finger. It was a symbol...an emblem to a conscious correction to her life.

She had seen James twice since their afternoon together. Each time, surrounded by a flood of girls and encircled by his ever-present friends, she had flushed pink and glanced to the floor, quickening her step. She didn't know what to make of him, them, 'it'. Who was she to him?

That afternoon had felt like a parallel creation, a spell which was somehow spoilt once they had stepped back into Hogwarts. Had she dreamt up the way their hands had met, the way he had smiled, how he had looked at her with such...

No. It was ridiculous. They hadn't even spoken; they had hardly met before that day. Some romanticised version had built in her head...

...

"So what do I do?"

"Do what?" Sirius mumbled, his mind drowsy and heavy from his place in front of the fire, "Do who?"

James sighed, "Moony?"

Remus diverted his dreamy gaze from skipping flames of the hearth, "I don't know, mate. Since when did you ever ask for girl advice?"

"Since she's not just any girl"

Sirius' ears prickled, "But-" he sat up, "She_ is_ female, right?"

"Yes"

"Right. Good. Okay, then just ask her out, idiot."

James stretched his legs out over the lounge and yawned, "Yeah...yeah I guess."

...

"I swear to god, you've been chewing that same bite of toast for the past ten minutes Lily, what the hell?"

"What?"

"Oh she speaks!"

"It's nothing," Lily quickly looked across the table to check he was still there, "Just tired."

...

James' heart was throbbing. It has almost been a week. He felt as though he was in a race, as though an imaginary hand was leisurely ticking down the seconds until his nerve was completely extinguished. His handicap was cruel. How could he focus on the right things to say when she looked so beautiful?

He watched as she rose out of her chair and linked an arm to her friend. As she left the hall, panic took grip. He felt his legs moving on their own accord, as though following some given mapped path; he broke into a jog, weaving through the myriad of faces.

She was walking outside...One chance...

"Lily!"

She turned in surprise.

"Lily. I was just, ugh, thinking..." he broke to catch his breath and with faded recognition realised they were standing a foot away from the steps.

Where he first saw her.

He glanced to the corner wall and could see her again, as clearly as though it was six days ago. He could see her tiny frame wrapped so tightly in the folds of her coat, standing there so lost and so small.

"James?"

He was launched back into the present with the jolt of her questioning voice.

"I was wondering if you were busy, um, that is if you weren't not doing anything..." his voice wavered and crackled like the jumping spark of a match.

"James..." her voice was scarcely a whisper, gentle, reassuring. She put her hand against his cheek, tenderly turning his face to meet her. She smiled, and now it was her eyes that ignited, a jade flame lit behind them. Her cheeks blushed crimson as she motioned above his head.

He looked up.

Mistletoe.

Any apprehension was consumed by relief, excitement, then...

Not even from that Oak branch had the outlook ever been so perfect. Both grinning madly at each other, the boisterous bustle of the hall echoed into silence.

There were only two figures. Standing together, it was as though the seconds were still. Ever shifting time stopped for them and them alone. James cupped his hands against her warm cheeks. Their eyes were held in one another while he softly drew her towards him.

As their lips met... it occurred to Lily that she had never felt so safe so whole, so..._herself_.

...


End file.
